


JWP 2020 #15 Redux: Time Stretches

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Prompt Fic, References to Canon, joy and sorrow, wounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25326205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: I have known many moments where time stretches impossibly. Written for JWP #15 (bonus point) over on Watson's Woes.
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Watson's Woes JWP Collection: 2020





	JWP 2020 #15 Redux: Time Stretches

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Возвращение, растянутое во времени](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25950652) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



> **Warnings** : References to canon, Watson's marriage to Mary, personal speculation on events during that marriage, and personal speculation about other events in the life of Watson. And written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
>  **Prompt** : 24 is 48: Your prompt is: time stretches. In honor of this prompt, you have twice as long (48 hours) before the next prompt appears. Bonus point: Write two entries for this prompt in the 48 hours. This is the bonus point fic.

I have known many moments where time stretches impossibly, turning seconds into hours, minutes into days. It comes in the depths of sorrow, the abyss of shock, the heights of joy.

The endless night when my mother died.

The moment when I was shot, and the interminable time it took for me to fall. That in and of itself seemed to take forever, yet it was a blink of an eye compared to the long retreat with Murray as my guide and guardian.

Waiting for Mary to answer after I had asked her to marry me.

The first night alone at the hotel after Holmes fell at Reichenbach.

The first time I held my newborn son, with Mary’s exhausted, radiant eyes staring at us both.

The last time I saw our son before the coffin lid closed over his still, waxen face.

Mary’s own death was a long torment without any stretched moments. I grieved. I wept. I did everything I could for her. I could not help but know, as both a doctor and as a man who loved his wife, that when death finally came, it came as her friend.

Holmes’ own miraculous resurrection did not stretch time. Rather it stopped it, shattering it into a million shards that robbed me of consciousness.

There have been other, lesser moments where time became infinite; moments of adrenaline in the midst of a fight, moments of boredom waiting on patients or stakeouts. But I have never felt time stretch as impossibly as now, when I have just kissed Holmes and I am waiting to see whether Heaven or Hell awaits me once he opens his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 16, 2020.


End file.
